a symphony of stars
by lydiamaartin
Summary: Because the world's not black and white - you gotta paint it with color to see the true beauty within. - Next-Gen drabbles - Complete!
1. red moon

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the songs or the characters (unless there's an OC, obviously).**

**Anywho, welcome to another Next-Gen collection by yours truly! ;) This one is part of a competition on Next-Gen Fanatics forum, run by the spectacular Bri (swirling-summernotes), where she posts a color and a song every day for a week and we write a drabble for it. So, there'll be seven drabbles in here, all Next-Gen and based on different songs and colors. I have honestly no idea what pairings there'll be, though :P**

**Warning: I entered and wrote this to help get over my writer's block, which means there's a high chance it'll suck because I haven't written anything decent in, like, a month. Fair warning.**

**Color: **red  
><strong>Song: <strong>_Hey Lady_ by Thriving Ivory  
><strong>Couple: <strong>LucyScorpius

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><p><em>don't burn your heart out love<br>till we're ash over seas_

-:-

All she's ever done is _wait_, and she's tired.

Wait to go to Hogwarts. Wait to be Sorted. Wait for the reactions when she's Sorted into Slytherin. Wait for her mother to come home. Wait for her father to become unbroken. Wait for her family to realize she's a lonely little girl and she needs help.

Half of those things never happen.

She likes the beach, though. If she hates her life (and sometimes, she thinks she might), then she likes the beach. It's the only place where she can be calm, where she doesn't have to _wait_ with the kind of frantic urgency she's been waiting her whole life.

Here, she is peaceful. And that's all she's ever wanted.

One day, Scorpius Malfoy joins her on the beach. He lives on the other end of the beach, but he meets her somewhere in the middle all the same. He's a lot like her – too quiet because he's so busy thinking – so he doesn't say hi, and neither does she.

He just sits there, alongside her, and they breathe the starshine and just _be_.

One day, he speaks. "Is the moon red tonight, or is it just me?"

Lucy curls her knees to her chest and lays her head across them. "Yeah. I asked Rose about the moon once and she said this sometimes happened. Something to do with the light. I always just thought – well, it's stupid, but I thought the moon just needed attention."

"Maybe it did," says Scorpius, touching her hand with his thumb, and she has a feeling he's not talking about the red moon anymore.

That night, he kisses her. There's no waiting. She's just _happy_.

-:-

_like pretty girls need cowboys  
>i need you here tonight<em>

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><p><strong>AN: Hope you guys enjoyed this! :) I don't really know if it makes sense with the song lyrics because I'm a crap interpreter, but hopefully you liked it anyway! If you did, make my day and drop me a review, please?**

**And ****don't**** favorite/alert without reviewing, as it's one of the most annoying things in the world. Thank you :)**


	2. sunset days

**color:** orange  
><strong>song:<strong> _Does Your Mother Know _by Abba  
><strong>prompt:<strong> apple martini

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><p><em>take it easy (take it easy)<br>better slow down, girl_

-:-

She's dancing when he finds her, two years after she disappeared.

She's dancing, but not how he remembers her dancing – wild and free and beautiful on the seashore, illuminated by a radiant sunset and the magnificence of the sea. Here, the atmosphere is all different, all _wrong_, and there's something about seeing her pressed up against a boy with lustful eyes that makes jealousy burn hot and deep in the pit of his stomach.

Before he knows it, he's marching over there because _damn it all_, this is Victoire, _his_ Victoire, and she doesn't get to just run away from him to some nightclub in Paris where she dances with boys who don't care about her the way she deserves.

She belongs on that beach. She belongs with him.

"Hey, Torie," he breathes against the side of her neck, surprising her out of that idiot's arms as she whirls around to see him standing there. He's the only one who's ever used that nickname, and he _knows_ she recognizes his voice.

"Teddy," she whispers, and she kind of looks torn between kissing him and punching him. "What are you – "

"Victoire," Teddy sighs, taking her wrist and dragging her out of the dance floor until they're both pressed up against the bar. "What are you doing here?"

She snatches her hand away. "I could ask you the same, Lupin," she spits, and it's hard to pretend he doesn't care she's not using his first name when she'd once said it so gently, so lovingly –

"Does your mother know you're here?" he demands, and she cringes away. "Your father? Your siblings, your aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents? Victiore – "

"Shut up, Teddy!" she hisses, her eyes darkened. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Then _explain_," he presses insistently, grasping both her wrists to keep her from running away. "Tell me the reason why, Torie."

She looks him in the eye for one precious second, blue into grey, and then she looks away. "One tequila sunrise, please," she drawls, flashing the (young, male, handsome) bartender one of her most dazzling smiles, and Teddy has to hold himself back from punching him in the guts.

"_Victoire_," he sighs, then glowers at the bartender to stop him from staring at her. "I'll have an apple martini," he adds, just to get him to go away. "And some _privacy_."

"Get lost, Lupin," Victoire snaps, attempting to draw away. He almost lets her, but then he realizes that if he does, he might never get back, and that's not something he can handle, _ever_. Living without Victoire has been torture, and he's not going through it again.

"Torie, please," he breathes, leaning closer so he can inhale her sunshine and seawater scent – it's never changed as long as he's known her. "Don't run from me."

Victoire hesitates. The bartender hesitantly offers her a glass full of vividly orange liquid and she snatches it up and waits for Teddy to glare at him until he leaves before looking at him again, and suddenly her eyes are so bright and her entire being is so broken, he wants nothing more than to kiss her right there.

"Torie," he says again, her name spilling effortlessly from his lips as he presses his forehead against hers. "Torie, please. Just…stop running."

She breathes, slowly. And then she smiles and offers him a sip of her tequila sunrise. The orange liquid is cool and refreshing down his throat and he grins. Maybe they _will_ be okay.

-:-

_try to cool it girl  
>take it nice and slow<em>

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, I'm sorry, I know this is crap and the ending is rushed because I didn't want to make it too long and I can't even write anything decent because writer's block sucks and whatever. But…I hope you liked it, at least a little bit, anyway? If so, please review and let me know what you thought! It'd really cheer me up :)**

**And ****don't**** favorite/alert without reviewing, please and thank you.**


	3. lemons and daisies

**color:** yellow  
><strong>song:<strong> Fix You by Coldplay  
><strong>extra prompts:<strong> countryside, daisy

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><p><em>and the tears come streaming down your face<br>when you lose something you can't replace_

_-:-_

You wear yellow to the wedding. It's lemon yellow with frills and lace and a skirt made of silk that swirls around when you spin. Your hair is vividly golden and perfecty curled, clipped back with diamonds, and on any other day, your beauty would eclipse any others in the room.

Not today.

Today, you watch as another, more beautiful than you can ever dream of being, glides down the aisle, a vision of heavenly perfection in white satin that spills down the curves of her body, perfectly matching the roses pinned into her vanilla-blond locks.

She meets him at the altar and he tucks a daisy behind her ear, their oldest, sweetest tradition since they were children. You watch, because that's all you can do, watch as tears spring to her eyes and to the eyes of her mother, her grandmother, her aunts, his grandmother – _you_.

But you're not crying because you're so happy for the blushing bride and her prince charming. Since when are _you_ happy, anyway? You're not, you're fearless and rebellious and glittering with the light of a thousand stars, but you're not _happy_.

You're not _her_, and when you cry at her wedding, it's not because you're happy for her.

How could you be, when she stole the one thing that mattered to you more than your own life?

Music plays, lights dim, and you escape the suffocating atmosphere of the wedding you never wanted to rush out into the countryside beyond the small park and just _breathe_. You're not okay, you're not even close to being okay, but maybe a broken heart can be healed, one day.

Maybe.

-:-

_lights will guide you home  
>and ignite your bones<em>

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><p><strong>AN: I don't even know what this is. Argh. I'm sorry. I'll probably delete this collection when I finish, if I still don't like it, but until then, enjoy this…whatever…that my muse has given me? :) Thanks so much to all those who reviewed; I really appreciate it!**

**And ****don't**** favorite/alert without reviewing, please and thank you.**


	4. wintry daydreams

**color:** green  
><strong>song:<strong> Better Than Revenge by Taylor Swift  
><strong>extra prompts:<strong> assorted, navy glimmer

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><p><em>she came along, got him alone and let's hear the applause<br>she took him faster than you could say "sabotage"_

-:-

If one asked about her, one would likely find that Rose Weasley is, in most people's estimations, a lovely girl with a clever mind and a good sense of humor and the sort of ambition that's going to make her Minister for Magic one day. She's a loyal friend, a loving daughter, and very good at baking. She is, in short, amazing.

That is, if you asked everyone _but_ Lily Luna Potter.

It's not that she's _jealous_, really. It's more than Lily Potter is the kind of girl who's very, _very_ territorial about those she loves. Which gets problematic when she loves somebody – and nobody knows she does, so she can't properly protect their relationship from outsiders trying to barge in.

Which is exactly the problem she finds herself facing one wintry day during Christmas break, when she watches Rose waltz over to the mistletoe to catch Scorpius Malfoy under it and flirt until he's wrapped around her finger like the big green bow twined into Rose's mass of red curls.

Lily crosses her arms, scattering assorted gifts that she has yet to wrap across the floor when she rises to her feet and begins to walk away from Rose and Scorpius, who are now dangerously close to kissing, before anyone notices the look on her face.

She ruins her escape plan, though, when she looks back and sees the navy glimmer in Rose's bright eyes.

Rose is pretty and Rose is smart, and Lily knows that Rose uses these attributes to toy with boys for her own fun. It's perhaps something she picked up from Victoire or Dominique, or perhaps just something she came up with on her own as part of her plan to escape from the shadow of her mother.

But Scorpius, despite whatever butterflies he may invoke in her, is one of Lily's _best friends_.

She can't let that happen to him.

So, she throws a pie at them and easily splatters them both with delicious apple-y goodness. It's cheap, but it works. She might not be the best at long, drawn-out plans, but she _is_ the best in their family at _revenge_.

And Rose should know that.

-:-

_she should keep in mind  
>there's nothing i do better than revenge<em>

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><p><strong>AN: My deadline is approaching soon... On the bright side, it's my birthday today...I don't suppose that'll get any of you to review? :P Thanks very much to lowi, for reviewing the last chapter! :) Pretty please can more of you do so on this one?**

**And don't favorite/alert without reviewing, thanks.  
><strong>


	5. burning rainwater

**color:** blue  
><strong>song:<strong> Set Fire to the Rain by Adele  
><strong>extra prompts:<strong> river, pebble

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><p><em>i set fire to the rain<br>threw us into the flames_

-:-

Rain pours, thick and heavy, over the beautiful country manor and the sylvan forests surrounding it, swirling into the damp green grass and slithering down the autumn-gold leaves of the trees, spilling into the little river that swims by the manor and soaking the electric-blue-and-black curls of the girl sitting by the river.

(Her name is _Lucy_, and she is broken.)

A boy finds her, after hours and hours of the endless rain, after she is thoroughly drenched in rainwater and yet hasn't moved from her seat by the river. This boy is as young as she is, and equally soaked, his golden-blond hair plastered to his head and his blue eyes almost brighter than the curls streaked through her hair.

"Lucy," he says, his voice low and cautious as he steps closer, always on guard, always wary of what she might do.

He's right to worry. Lucy tilts her head when she hears her name, almost as if she's deciding how to react. And then she whirls, whips out her wand, and sends him flying backwards into a mud puddle with one jab and a burst of red light.

"I'm sorry!" offers the boy desperately, but Lucy scoffs.

"Forget it, Lorcan," she says icily, her voice colder, even, than the temperature of the river beneath her feet. "You lied. You said you were over her. You said you _loved me_."

"Give me one more chance," he pleads, crawling across the grass to her side. "We – I do love you, Lucy!"

"Liar," she breathes, and shoots another jet of light out of her wand that leaves him sprawled on the ground a good ten feet away from her. "It's over, Lorcan. You've known me for eight years, you can't possibly think I'm the _forgiving_ sort, can you?"

She rises to her feet, looking rather like a beautiful, terrible goddess, radiant in her rain-soaked beauty but terrible in the wrath reflected in her bright blue eyes. "Leave me alone," she tells him, kicking a pebble mindlessly in his direction. It's hardly the worst she can do, but right now, all he wants is to walk away from him.

So she does, and he watches her go, and rain continues to fall. It's something like a tragedy, only perhaps it's not.

-:-

_let it burn  
>let it burn<em>

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks very much for all your reviews, and all your birthday wishes! :D I had a very happy one, actually, and you know what'd make me happy today? Reviews for this chapter! :)**

**Don't favorite/alert without reviewing, please and thank you!  
><strong>


	6. calculating regrets

**color:** indigo  
><strong>song:<strong> The Scientist by Coldplay  
><strong>extra prompt:<strong> haze

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><p><em>questions of science, science and progress<br>do not speak as loud as my heart_

-:-

Ten days, and the memories are still lost in a haze.

Ten days, and he's still not sure where things went wrong.

Ten days, and the scent of her is still tattooed to the fabric of his world and every time he makes a cup of cocoa he thinks of her lipstick stains on his glasses and whenever a stray cat or dog runs past his house he remembers the vision of her working dilligently at the local animal shelter simply because she wanted to help the animals.

Because she is _Molly_, and she smells like cinnamon and she loves cocoa and she wears pink lipstick and she loves animals and not him.

_Not him_.

Not anymore.

Lysander spends days upon days after she leaves just sitting on the worn indigo couch she always liked to cuddle on with his head in his hand and thoughts of Molly racing through his mind at top-speed. He's well-educated, beyond simply Hogwarts, and he works a prestigious job in the Ministry now, but when he tries to think logically about a girl like Molly, it feels like stars are exploding in his brain and he can't _think_.

He hates not thinking.

_Did he do something wrong? Not talk to her enough? Not kiss well enough? Spend too much time with other girls? Forget a major anniversary?_

All of those problems are major relationship-ruiners in the muggle films she makes him watch where a boy and a girl fall in love and that's basically the entire plot, or at least, that's all he ever remembers because he's usually far too busy admiring the shine in Molly's curls, but none of these problems seem to fit _them_, and she's still gone.

She's still gone.

-:-

_nobody ever said it was easy  
>no one said it would be this hard<em>

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! One last chapter, guys! :) If you're reading this far, please leave me a review? It'd really make my day! :D**

**And don't favorite/alert without reviewing, please and thank you!  
><strong>


	7. violet nights

**color:** violet  
><strong>song:<strong> Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri**  
>extra prompts: <strong>dewdrops, wonder

**note:** the boy here could be anyone, but I personally think it's Scorpius.

* * *

><p><em>and who do you think you are?<br>runnin' 'round leaving scars_

-:-

You're tired.

There's a girl in your arms, but she's not the girl you know, and there's violet lipstick on your neck when there really should be pink, and there are black curls threaded through your fingers even though they're supposed to be _red_.

"What do you think you're doing, Rose?" you whisper, pulling away from her sinfully sweet kisses. "This isn't you."

Blue eyes flash. "Don't tell me what I am and what I'm not," and then she leans back in for a kiss so hungry and intense, your heart starts aching for the girl who used to dance amongst dewdrops and wonder about the symphony of the stars.

This isn't her and (you're _tired_).

The next time you catch her in that same broom closet with somebody else, it's over.

Slowly, the scars heal.

-:-

_you're gonna catch a cold  
>from the ice inside your soul<em>

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><p><strong>AN: Here we are, the last chapter! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed; it really means a lot to me, and I'd love it if you could review one last time! :D**

**And, as always, ****don't**** favorite without reviewing, please and thank you.**


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